


Talk to the Trees

by tesseractact



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesseractact/pseuds/tesseractact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nice to listen. It's even nicer to be heard. Even better: to be understood. These are some short interactions, based purely on the MCU movies. Avengers and some Guardians of the Galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Listen to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not proofread by someone who knows what they’re doing. Not a written by a real writer. Not for profit. Characters belong to Marvel. Purely for fun.
> 
> Some chapters are self-contained, others may continue from the previous installment.

And they listen to me.

Wanda rolled her sore limbs, muscles protesting. It had been a tough week. Surveying the training room, she hoped today would prove quiet.

The Avengers were no stranger to the strangest of threats or the most eccentric of allies. In recent days, both had come to light. Being alone in the universe is one thing, but being very far from it was another. And the later was proving more and more of the job’s hazard pay. Crippling a flawed mob cartel was one thing, crippling an intergalactic war monger was another. A pivotal conflict was coming, it was on the horizon as ominous as any approaching storm. In the most recent advent, new friends came with old enemies. They had clashed at first, but had the same goals. While the “bad guys” had been put off, the “good guys” recouped. The Avengers facility became a temporary home for the newest of newbies.

Star Lord, as he had lauded himself, was a snarky adventurer who went out of his way to acquire all sorts of loot. Peter Quill may have given himself a lofty status in the galaxy, but he was every bit the personality and self-assured confident that she would expect from someone named ‘Peter.’ He quipped and chortled and could be as good natured as he was determined. He reminded her of her own Pietro, a sore tear in her heart, but one that had healed as she honored his memory amongst her new vocation.

Gamora had very little kinship with nonsense, but as deadly and as calculated as she carried herself, Peter could crack her facade and humor. There was something there beyond camaraderie, Wanda knew it from the moment they joined them in the field. They didn’t give themselves away, but their minds spoke with reserved reverence for each other (if not tinged with a certain dash of exasperation over each of their personalities).

Drax was literal. There was no other way to put him in perspective. What he said was what he meant and his track of mind didn’t require her to read or pull ulterior motives. He was deadly and a force on the field, and defend to defeat the foe. Vengeance and violence had once driven mind in solidarity. It had once consumed him. It was not as raw, but still a slow burn that could steal his mead. His friendships kept him from devolving, but she understood his thoughts when he sharpened a knife on the edge of the training room. It was methodical.

Rocket looked pissed. Arms crossed, nerves bristled, with dark eyes that darted in calculation when he saw the gadgets on the compound. He threw a tantrum if someone messed with his stuff or got in his space. Wanda understood his sensitivity to strangers, what it was like to have a scramble of white lab coats on the edge of every floor engrossed in experiments and results. She had learned that she was not one of these experiments, but the wariness had never left her senses. Rocket had the very same air about him, but deflected with his personality. He was crass, liked cash, and had a knack for flying into dangerous situations blazing. For being the shortest in stature, he wielded the largest of weapons seemingly without a thought.

Often in Rocket’s company was Groot. Protective. Strong. Regal. When they first met, she could see images flash through everyone’s minds of great humming trees and warriors on a quest. She later learned that these images her team associated with Groot were from “The Lord of the Rings” movies. Groot could summon a spectacular amount of calm in the midst of horror and chaos. Rocket often leveraged Groot’s limbs to get better vantages on the field. In their differences they found strength.

Speaking of whom, Groot skirted her peripheral. They stood quietly watching the teams interact on the training room floor. She could hear his sinew of his limbs creak as he shifted his weight. 

“I am Groot?” the vibration of his voice pulled her attention. 

No matter what words Wanda could hear, his mind was clear.

“It’s been a long week,” she admitted. Wanda sighed and smiled up at him. What she didn’t expect to see was purist of unadulterated delight spreading across Groot’s features.

“I … am … Groot!” was declared with bravado, brandishing an even wider smile, pulling in breath from the atmosphere excitedly, and then rushing another “I am Groot!” His arms rustled and folded branch-like fingers around Wanda's shoulders and she was pulled into a crushed her under his gaze. He continued, “I am Groot, I AM Groot, I AM GROOT …”

Wanda smothered a laugh and patted at the bark and branches circling her frame, “Yes, you certainly are.”

Across the room, Peter’s head had snapped and his jaw went slack. “No way. Red witch can talk to the trees!”


	2. Dance Off, Bro!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocket, it seemed, had hacked into the com system and routed in Quill’s newly minted playlist. The hijacked speakers synced with the lights into something that pulsed. Tony would have been impressed. Well, if it weren’t for a random scattering of equipment that tanked the club-like vibe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proofread by someone who knows what they’re doing. Not a written by a real writer. Not for profit. Characters below to Marvel. Purely for fun.

Steve surveyed the training floor in amusement. The Avengers compound’s guests had made more than a minor impact to their daily routines. 

Rocket, it seemed, had hacked into the com system and routed in Quill’s newly minted playlist. The hijacked speakers synced with the lights into something that pulsed. Tony would have been impressed. Well, if it weren’t for a random scattering of equipment that tanked the club-like vibe. 

It wasn’t something they could just do: jump in the Helicarrier and cruise downtown. As for setting up a dance on the floor, it honestly wasn’t something he thought of as an option. The tidy army of Avengers could use some team building.

It wasn’t like the dance parties he remembered. Not like the one for which he still held an open dance card … 

He paused before shifting the thoughts away.

This was where he was, this was his home. He was braver in this world than he was in the one from yesterday. He could always look back and remember, but he needed to keep his sights in step. A soldier marched forward, and that’s where he needed to stay in time.

“This is loud,” the daunting figure of Drax interrupted his thoughts. “And has many lights.”

“That’s true,” Steve agreed. He’d come familiar with Drax’s statements. Obvious observations were, as it would be, one of his fortes.

Drax considered the room for a moment. “I like it.”

Steve nodded. Of course Drax liked it. It was also a room filled with comrades and allies. Many strangers that found friends in their equally strange strengths.

Drax left Steve’s side to showcase his two left feet. Ah well, he was having a good time. 

Quill was, of course, killing it. His playlist, his idea: it didn’t surprise Steve that he could own the floor. Quill had squared Sam to a “Dance off, Bro!” to which Sam pulled out some crazy spin street flip. That earned cheers and applause from the edges of the room, as well as a whistle from Nat. Sam kept it “real,” as one might say, before throwing the challenge to her. It doesn’t matter how far off the chart you might be, the Black Window could ping on any radar with her moves. 

Nat spun a very suggestive swivel to the music, earning her hoot and whistle. It was all in good humor. Everyone respected her too much to misinterpret her … was that called twerking? Twerking. Yep, that was twerking. 

Wanda, had kept a quiet and reserved stance to the festivities. Clearly entertained, but taking the sideline. Rhodey rolled alongside her and gestured to her empty glass. She smiled and shook her head, declining an offer to refill.

It had been proven, quite unfortunately, she could drink Rhodey under the table. And Sam. And Natasha. Six bottles of premium vodka from Nat’s hold and Wanda was at training the next day without so much as a yawn. Natasha was a little rough around the edges and secluded herself to the firing range. Rhodey took a sick day, claiming he shouldn’t operating heavy machinery. Sam credited a short run, but signed off early leaving a note on the track door scrawled, “Left.”

That meant the training session was Steve, Vision, and Wanda. He wasn’t intimidated by that. Nope. Not the least. Unfortunately, he didn’t quite have exercises worked out to his satisfaction to hone and test their skills. Sparing is always good to know the limits of the team, but when one could phase through walls and other could curl energy strong enough to melt vibranium … it was a beautiful, albeit terrifying, task to temper.

As such, he gave them the day off. (And advised Wanda that drinking in moderation would be better for future team building challenges.)

The music shifted and Steve noticed Groot crossing the Dance floor to the beat. It was much more fluid than he would have expected from a walking tree.

Groot’s language skills were perplexing. Rocket bristled with him, but their partnership had depth. Roots, if you will. While everyone heard “I am Groot,” Rocket chattered with him about his plans and projects. The racoon wasn’t very interested in playing translator or sharing his friend.

Groot could communicate if needed. When Rocket tore apart tech scraps in the labs, puzzling them back together into a weapon, Groot was able to recon and get the proper lab personnel to dismantle it when a faulty trigger caused a partial detonation. Rocket was banned from the research and development floors after that. 

Vision had speculated that Groot’s speech patterns had a harmonic modulation. One such that was only accessible to specific frequencies, and the human-made ear was excluded from such a range. That very well could be, but Wanda disproved the theory by accident. Groot had drawled his worn mantra and she replied conversationally. That earned her a very animated hug and a rambling cascade of “I am Groot.” She could get in people’s heads, it was quite possible Wanda could unconsciously read his thoughts in parallel to the spoken words. It was all quite curious. Rocket was displeased.

Whatever it was, she became an unofficial translator for a stint. That is until Quill cornered Wanda into a decidedly awkward Q & A. Wanda fielded more than a few indelicate questions, which delighted Rocket to no end—taking his former sourness and transforming it into borderline hysteria. Groot finally tsked and shook his head in refusal to answer. Quill looked as defeated as a kid deprived of dessert. He left it at, “Just let me know if you’re able to relate to at least one of those things.”

Wanda wasn’t a delicate flower, but she had let out thankful exhale that the chat ended. Groot had patted her on the shoulder and murmured, “I am Groot.” She had only nodded in reply.

Now, the towering tree had offered an arm to Wanda, pulling her from the edge of training floor into the designated dance zone. Same floor, just ten feet into the music. They made an interesting pair. Wanda truly looked like she was having fun as they spun in beat with the music. It was good to see her smiling.

“You gotta be able to relate to at least one of those things!” Quil shouted across the floor.

Wanda shot him a dirty look. Groot … did Groot flip him off? It was difficult to tell. Was “the bird” a universal gesture in the universe?

Rocket laughed, “You’re just proving the point! That’s one of those things!”

And so the evening continued. 

Drax had convinced Maria Hill to waltz, and they were still looping around the floor lost in something of what could only be a very literal conversation. Quill and Gamora seemed to be getting lost into their own space. Rocket had curled to sleep training mats to which Groot had receded into a sentinel mode. Rhodey had to make a break for it, citing an early conference with Stark on his schedule. Steve had joined Natasha and Sam after they zoned out of dancing. They were trying to keep things social and light, but they all had weights that they could only life together.

“Mind that matter,” Sam nodded to the dance floor.

“Clint called it,” Natasha didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Pardon?” Steven asked. “Clint called what?”

“That,” Nat nodded toward Wanda and Vision.

They were dancing to the slow song in rotation, talking lowly on the farthest edge of the room. They shared, it seemed, an undivided attention: arms wrapped, heads tipped, eyes locked, leaning into one another like they were going to … 

… oh. Oh. Oh.

Huh. 

When did that happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For being able to fly, they always have a gravity weighing them down.

The corridor seemed way too long. Wanda dragged her boats to a scuffling stop. She heaved a sigh and slide down to the floor. The walls seemed to zone farther away. 

God, she was exhausted. Perhaps she could sleep in the hallway.

“Yo,” Sam tromped to her side. “You need a wing to lean on?”

“No no, I’ll make it,” Wanda waved him off. 

“Sure?”

“No.”

“Ha. Okay, up we go,” Sam extended a hand. 

Sam had be a good friend to the team. After their trials in Sokovia, he had organized a support group at the compound. It was good for people who had lost someone, as she had. 

Vision would sit with her in these meetings while people shared stories and rediscovered their strengths beyond grief. She tried to dismiss his attendance as a study in behavior, but soon understood that he was there for her. It was an odd revelation, one that kept her taking quick glances into his mind. He had never retracted his invitation to ‘look again,’ and she had an odd feeling that he knew when she did, indeed, do exactly that. There was something of a veil on his thoughts when they kept company. One day she would ask. She had a feeling having him speak the words might clear away the clouds.

However, the support session schedule was growing erratic as of late. 

Wanda reached up to grasp has hand, but frowned at the burns skimming his forearm. He sensed her next question. “Gonna see someone about that in the morning. Had to wait in line: Rhodey needed medical first. He got a little bent outta shape.”

She looped an arm over his shoulder and they leaned on each other. She wasn’t the only one who was exhausted. “Did he repair the short in this suit?” 

“Nope, but the diagnostics were pulled for review. Stark’ll fix it, if he hasn’t already.”

She stiffened a little, but didn’t let it gnaw at her mind. The name Stark had already eaten away years of her life. As a retired Avenger, he still permeated many of their routines and missions. If he had any other off-key intent, she would know.

“If we want to get nitty gritty about it, the mission didn’t let us follow flight check procedures before we let him put it back on,” Sam slowed down as they reached her room.

“The problem with back-to-back ops,” Wanda said quietly.

“Yeah. Hill is working on a better way to stagger who goes out when so the last team can regroup.”

“That would be good,” she flattened a palm on her door entry panel.

RETRY.

She frowned and pressed again.

RETRY.

“Probably got some dirt or something,” Sam reached over and uncurled her palm. An ugly cut cracked and oozed. “… or something.”

“Gonna see someone about that in the morning,” she echoed his earlier words, using her other hand to press against the panel. The door slide open. She shifted her weight from Sam’s shoulder to the frame. 

“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?”

“If we get any stronger, we’ll be invincible.”

“Is that how it works?” he grinned. “Well, let’s sleep on this new-found level of invincibility, shall we?” he started to head down the hallway to his quarters. “See you in the morning.” He saluted casually with his goggles wadded in his hand.

Wanda watched him walk away, still gripping on her doorway. For being able to fly, they always have a gravity weighing them down.

“Sam.” 

He slowed in his step.

“Stay strong.”


	4. Window Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued from the previous chapter, "Lean On."

The bandage frayed under her attention. Wanda rolled it’s edges, watching the threads unravel.

A few hours after she had collapsed in bed, an alarm had sounded. She dragged herself back through the compound only to be reprimanded. Steve had given her and Sam one look and shook his head, giving them an earful about neglecting their medical debrief. He said it was reckless and neither of them were going anywhere on any mission until their health was addressed. He was proud of them, wanted them to be able to overcome what they needed to when they were out in the field, but once they were back on home turf they needed to take care of themselves and eachother. She understood what he meant. It didn’t diffuse problem that they were even blocked so tightly into missions that given time to recovery was secondary.

They were dismissed and send directly to the medical wing. The last thing she remembered was slumping into a chair and letting a dark, deep sleep engulf her.

Wanda woke hours later to a wild and dark autumn evening. Sam had relocated to his room and Rhodey had taken leave to visit Stark about his suit. With the away team of Steve, Vision, and Nat still at an undisclosed location, she was left alone in her own mind.

With so many people out of the compound, she found the common room a quiet place to decompress. Wanda was still exhausted, but it was the kind of exhaustion that sleep did offered no blam. Instead, she stared out the window, watching the autumn wind. It pulled the trees against the the stormy sky like it pulled her mind against her thoughts. 

She wished she could see the stars. At least then she could fabricate tales of magic. Magic that granted hopes and dreams rather than the blood and chaos that pulsed through her reality.

Something awful was coming, and they seemed to be skirting the onslaught one near-death mission after the other. She had grown close to her new family, depended on them, but was finding it more and more difficult to watch them duck lasers and swing away from crushing blows. It had been several long weeks with little to show for their efforts. She knew they were strong, that they could handle themselves. She had lost her family once, she did not want to lose them again. They had made their own peace with the worst case scenario, but that does not mean she did not—

“You worry,” Vision’s voice settled across the room. He could be a sneaky ninja sometimes: appear out of nowhere, utter an uncannily transcendent observation, and then let it sink in with chilling clarity as he phased into silence. Today, however, he seemed to be perfecting his ability to state the obvious.

“Sometimes,” she gave a short nod in agreement and watched a few leaves flurry away in a gust. 

If Vision was here, that must mean the away team had returned. How long had she been staring out the window? 

Vision moved next to her and they both watched as wind churned into a gale. His thoughts were methodical and smooth, it was an odd dichotomy from the chaos of her own mind. She found it comforting.

Wanda's focus returned to the weather. Rain, lightning, thunder … she wondered if Thor was out there crashing into an otherworldly foe. A foe that was beyond their realm’s ability to conquer. It was tough enough to deal with earth’s ever-present evils, she veiled her optimism about what they could do against something far greater than their sum.

"Do you?" she asked abruptly.

Vision's eyes seemed to refocus on her question.

"Worry?" she clarified.

He stared through the window, measuring his answer. His thoughts seemed to scatter far too fast for her to read.

"Sometimes," he finally answered.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"About?"

"The same as you might worry about."

"The world is ending?"

"Not today."

" … not today," she echoed, feeling a detached stress fog her mind.

"Nor tomorrow," he assured.

She regarded him for a moment. "Do you know when?"

"I do not. I am sorry," he considered his words for a moment. "If I did, you would be the first to know."

"I would try to stop it."

"I would expect nothing less."

She tamed a smile to the corners of her mouth. "You would help?"

"Of course."

"Good," her features shifted from worn worry to something warmer. 

Wanda felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder and took that moment to lean against his side. His hands flexed curiously into the fabric and they stood there and watched the the window bleed with rain.


	5. Snow Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snow day was the perfect time for a witch to walk in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proofread by someone who knows what they’re doing. Not a written by a real writer. Not for profit. Characters belong to Marvel. Purely for fun.
> 
> Some chapters are self-contained, others may continue from the previous installment.

“That’s a lotta snow.”

“It is,” Steve agreed. “Roads are a mess. Officially, everyone has a snow day.”

“Yeah, I got the text on my com. I didn’t know you could do that,” Natasha ribbed.

“I can text,” Steve hummed. “Though I’m not sure I understand the facies.”

“Emojis,” Natasha corrected. “I was half expecting note pinned to my door saying something like ‘In my day, we had to walk fifty miles, up hill, with no shoes. Report at oh-six-hundred.’”

“In my day, I had shoes.”

They stood idly in the training room watching thick snowflakes drift. It was a slow and steady accumulation, one that was had already buried the ground floor and was tempting to take the next story. The great floor-to-ceiling window was divided by a shadow of snowfall and a sheen of frost.

Sqwuee, squeega, squeega.

A window panel was pawed clear from the outside. Two red mittens framed a face as she peered into the room. Of all the Avengers, Wanda was probably the least phased by the cold snap. Sokovia’s standard snowfall probably rivaled this in a light year.

Her breath fogged the window as she scanned the room. When she caught sight of Natasha and Steve on the second level walkway, she smiled and waved.

Steve waved back. Natasha nodded.

“Did schedules change?” Wanda’s muffled voice carried through the glass.

“Snow Day! No Training!” Steve boomed.

She gave him a nod and a thumbs up. Or, at least, what appeared to be a thumbs up in in her thick gloves. Backing away from the window, she slipped from sight.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Natasha shifted a little like she remembered something she should have reported earlier. “Wanda needs a new com. She fries those faster than Thor’s lightening”

“So that’s why she’s out there,” Steve said thoughtfully. He hoped, after seeing everyone else had stayed in, she didn’t try to run laps on the track. It was probably better exercise than the usually track run, but still: not good conditions. He turned his thoughts back to the information Natasha had shared. “I thought Dr. Selvig had an solution?”

“Trial and error,” Natasha explained. “He said the particle fluctuation lacks quantifiable stability to insulate the circuits from—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. Texting is one thing, that’s another.”

Natasha grinned playfully. “Ah, come on Cap, you’re smarter than that.”

“Perhaps, but I’d rather have it work when I need it than understand it when it doesn’t.”

“And not understanding it or having control over it?”

“Human condition,” he stated flatly. He was really hoping this wasn’t going to turn into a debate about existentialism. If this was going to be a snow day, he’d like to keep the heavy lifting to a minimum. Physically and mentally. They could all use a good rest.

“Not all of us are human,” Natasha leaned back on the railing and dared him to counter.

“Human enough,” Steve sighed. “Take a day, Nat. Have cup of cocoa and curl up with a book.”

“That sounds cosy,” a cheshire cat smile spread across her face. “I’ve been meaning to read _Fifty shades of Grey_.”

“Chromatics?” his face was the picture of neutrality. “Sounds interesting.”

Natasha laughed and pushed away from the rail. “All right, Mr. Boy-Next-Store, thanks for helping me plan my day.”

“Happy to help,” Steve watched her retreat. “I’ll let you know if there’s any status change.”

“Sure, text me,” she slipped out the door, the compressed mechanism in the hinges coasting a hiss of air.

Steve looked back at winter scene.

The circle Wanda had cleared was starting to frost over. He wondered what door she had used to get outside given how deep the banks were. Maybe she melted a path. He would have to make a note to ask her about her red energy being able to melt through feet of snow. That would be handy to clear a few doors and the facility walkways.

***

Wanda’s breath plumed like restless cloud as her legs plunged thigh high into the drifts of snow. She always walked when it snowed. Sounds were insulated by the snowfall and everything looked as if it had been purified by the ice. It was a quiet respite from the noise.

She paused for a moment to eye the treeline. It was not so much farther to walk before she could sink into the peace of the forest. With all the tactical exercises she had been participating as of late, it should not be as much of a task as such a route might have been in her youth. Much as today, those walks had been a sanctuary from hard times when she needed a semblance of hush. Unlike today, those walks were not the same. Those walks had the uncanny ability to turn into an duet. The company had been a warm distraction from the creeping chill.

Wanda sucked in a breath trying to fill the hollow ache in her chest. Her coat felt heavier and she pulled at the scarf as if adjusting it could lift the weight. She pushed the sensation away and set to continue the course.

“May I join you?”

Wanda twisted her head, pausing between two giant sinking steps.

Vision hovered, a dusting of snow collecting against his cape.

“For a walk? ” Wanda questioned literally, watching him as he floated a touch above the snowscape.

“If you prefer,” Vision sank down to ground level. “… to walk?”

“That would be good,” a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He had boots, it was about time he put some mileage on those soles. He couldn’t fly everywhere. Well … he could. It’s just some journeys were meant to be made on foot.

“Where ?”

“The forest,” she shrugged apologetically about the destination. “It’s quiet when it snows.”

Vision nodded as if he understood. Which meant he did understand. If he didn’t, he’d ask a question so damningly polite that it would be difficult not to offer an explanation. Or, perhaps, he too wanted to find a silent moment in their minefield schedule of operations and tasks.

They walked in silence for a while, weaving through the flocked trees and errant boulder. Wanda wasn’t sure how far the Avengers property stretched into the wood. She was sure, if they were skirting outside range, Vision would tell her and they’d loop back.

Wanda had to keep her steps high and light or she’d crunch too deep into the snow. Vision, however, seemed to be able to stroll through the snow like it was clear as air.

Vision had noticed her steps and had offered to take lead, clear the path, instead of staying at her side. She insisted she was fine. Now, as her legs ached, letting him lead a little while might have been okay. She could always use the path he cut on the route back.

“I’m going to take a moment,” she stopped and eyed choice settling points. Tree, rock, another tree. Ah, what the heck, she was already nearly sitting in it … snow it was.

Fwoomp.

She flopped backwards, arms spread like she did in her childhood to make a snow angel. 

Vision peered into her dent in the snow, some of the edges collapsing in. She could feel some amusement flit across his mind, see it in the calculated spin of his eyes.

“Go for it,” she encouraged.

He leaned out of her line of sight and she resisted the urge to catch what he was thinking. She’d rather be surprised …

Fwoomp.

She giggled involuntarily.

“It’s a rather linear view,” she heard Vision’s voice crest over their snow beds.

“It is,” she agreed, a smile still stretched across her face.

Gray clouds moved lazily, spilling more snow. She watched a thin layer start to build on her coat and cling to her eyelashes. Fond memories surfaced where she and Pietro had collapsed holding hands, then madly etched wings and billowing gowns with their arms and legs. She exhaled a slow breath of air and closed her eyes.

The snow shifted and she felt her hand move. When Vision had fallen backward, his arm must have been stretched toward hers. He had found a path to her hand and, even through her thick mitten, she felt his fingers close around hers.

She always walked in the snowed. It was a quiet respite from the noise. And the company was a warm distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Let it snow.


	6. Not Just a Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Selvig and Wanda Maximoff try to solve the problem of her energy shorting the Avengers-issue communicator.

Dr. Selvig looked delighted. No, he looked like the kid from television celebrating a colorful holiday morning. No no, he looked—

“ … szzzfffszzzfffTTT!”

—like he just electrocuted himself. Just a little.

“Dr. Selvig, are you okay?” Wanda peered over the edge of the lab console. She wasn’t sure if he was in shock or not. A quick brush against his mind left her amidst a string of scientific thoughts. It was a sticky mess, but he was okay. Just lost in his own head for the moment.

The scrawl of man waved away puffs of smoke and patted down his mismatched sweater vest. He blinked rapidly for a moment, then looked at the melted pool of plastic and metal on the table above. The melted pool of that used to be Wanda’s communicator. 

“Doctor?” she reached out her hand. 

“Yes, very good. That was supposed to happen,” he took her outstretched arm and was pulled back to his feet. “I believe it’s just a matter of planning a corrected counteraction per the fluctuating variables. A capacitor could contain excess energy and store it for use to, say, recharge depletion levels on the device as a bonus, it’s just a matter of calibrating the field frequencies.”

“So, that was good?” The corners of Wanda’s mouth pulled into a grin. The Doctor was contagiously upbeat. She still wasn’t sure why he wasn’t wearing any shoes, but he was always wore a smile and had a glint of excited distraction in his eyes.

“It was excellent!”

“If you insist.” 

I really do,” Selvig scurried across the room and wrapped his arms around a mess of stray parts. 

He threw together odd build of twisted wires. It reminded Wanda of a school project that was run over by a car. When he was done making adjustments, the makeshift device looked like an orbit of hangers with a ping pong ball in the center. She tapped the little white sphere. Yep, a ping pong ball.

“Let’s have a go at this again, shall we?” he handed her a new issue communicator and slide the one they just fried into the trash.

“I really do not need this,” Wanda frowned, taking the device. The device she inexplicably kept shorting into a brick of melted wired warped plastic.

“Me neither,” Selvig shrugged. “Darcy keeps changing the alert noises on the blasted thing.” He seemed to be lost for a moment, probably recalling the last inopportune incident. He shook himself from his thoughts. “It’s necessary for the team, I suppose. You do not need one, but the team needs you to have one.”

“Hmm,” Wanda flattened the communicator on the table.

“If we can get one to last longer than a day, you might find something useful to do with it. Read a book, watch movie, get addicted to a game app, or take candids of Vision crashing into a tree.”

“He phased through a tree.”

“Yes, well, I believe a lot of things sight unseen, and from what Mr. Wilson relayed it was a spectacular crash. Birds scattering, branches breaking …”

“He was not watching where he was going,” she turned the device over in her palm and blinked at the dark home screen.

“They might have to take away his flight permit,” Selvig patted her on the shoulder. 

“Vision flies well. Far better than I can manage,” Wanda defended. Her insecurities bubbled and she felt a bit embarrassed. “He was actually helping me levitate.”

“Ah, there’s the root of it,” Selvig twisted at a few wires. “Ever hear of Newton’s laws?”

She gave him a sideways glance. 

“The first one?” he rolled his hand, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

“Things remain as they are until an act from an outside force?” 

“That’ll do,” he scratched his chin.

“Point?”

“Who is going to act?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.”

She really did.

“Let’s take care of this first,” she tapped her communicator. “Before the gravity of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	7. Treed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Vision crashed into a tree, the trending topic would be #visionimpaired.

“Replay that,” Rhodey peered over Sam’s shoulder.

“I should just post it on YouTube and see if it goes viral,” Sam scrubbed the video back to the beginning and handed his tablet over to Rhodey.

“#visionimpaired?” Rhodey gave a definitive nod, quite pleased with his quip. “Tony would probably clock in the first hundred hits.”

“Captain would have us take it down before it got to that,” Sam snagged a bottled water from the from the fridge. He inspected it suspiciously for a moment. Artisanal spring water in a fancy glass bottle. Who ordered that stuff?

“Even so, I’m emailing it to myself.”

“Go for it.”

“It will not happen again,” Vision spoke quietly.

“Yeah?” Rhodey tossed Sam’s device back to him. “That’s a shame.”

Vision’s face held a micron of an amused smile, but he didn’t reply.

Rhodey checked his phone to make sure the file transferred. It was one of the handful of videos Sam had taken chronicling Wanda’s journey grounded to airborne. She had mastered the up and down quite well, now she was working on covering ground. An actual flight, as it were. He clicked play.

/ * video * /

A shaking track of Wanda staggered a good floor off the ground clipped into the view. Vision was in close proximity as she kept her levitation steady. 

‘Try to fly forward!’ Sam’s voice encouraged.

‘Where?’ Wanda called down.

‘To the treeline and back!’

‘Okay!’

Red energy curled and she propelled forward a little faster than expected. She snapped her powers back in place and leveled out.

‘I’m going to crash,’ she admonished.

‘You are doing quite well,’ Vision’s voice assured. ‘Keep the energy flow steady.’

‘… right,’ she frowned. ‘Is that all?’

‘Direct it as you would rise from the ground,’ Vision elaborated. “Angle the force so it is balanced parallel as well as maintains the same height.’

‘Okay,’ a little less confidently. ‘I thought that was what I was doing.’

She moved forward again and Vision kept close. It was a slow flight, but Wanda made it to the trees and back.

‘Go Wanda!’ Sam cheered. ‘Take another victory lap! Try for speed!’

‘Yeah?’ she said, eying the distance distractedly.

Vision said something but it didn’t catch on the audio.

Wanda favored him with a warm smile.

‘You flying or what?’ Sam challenged.

‘Flying!’ Wanda set her sights back on the treeline.

An unsteady pulse of powers jetted forward in an unexpected arc. She let out a startled yelp. Vision had launched ahead of her and, while she managed to slow down, he did not—

CRASH!

The audio picked up with a spectacular breaking of branches off screen. Sam jerked the camera to catch a tiny cluster of birds that scattered into the air. Leaves fluttered like rain as a large shattered tree panned into view.

‘Viszh!’ Wanda dropped to the ground and ran toward the trees Vision had just crashed through. Into? Through or into. One of those. Both of those? 

Sam broke into a jog, the camera frame bounced as he caught up with Wanda. The video stabilized on Vision flat on his back looking slightly dazed. Wanda had knelt beside him, plucking away leaves and splinters that had caught in his cape.

‘I’m quite alright,’ Vision had assured, but he didn’t move. He just stared at Wanda as she fingertips brushed away debris. 

‘And you were worried about crashing?’ Sam asked Wanda. The video careened down and tapped off.

/ * end video * /

“So, how was that for you?” Rhodey grinned at Vision. “Ya know, crashing.”

“It was new.”

“Was that all?”

“Quite.”

“Bull.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Rhodey was channeling his inner antagonist.

“Something you wish to elaborate upon, Colonial Rhodes?”

“Dude, Rhodey.”

“Rhodey.”

“You crashed.”

“Astute observation.”

“You crashed,” Rhodey insisted.

“Established fact, I concur.”

“Nah, man,” Rhodey fixed him with pointed look. “You don’t crash.”

“I believe there is evidence to the contrary.”

“Right, a lotta evidence,” Rhodey waved his device in the air. “But you don’t crash. You phase through stuff. I’ve seen it: in the middle of war zone crazy destruction and impending global destruction: you phase through stuff with the greatest of ease.”

Vision stared at him.

“You crashed!”

Sam shook his head. This was getting dense and denser and needed to have a transparent end point. Sam blew across the top of his bottle making a low fog horn sound. They both looked at him. 

“You,” Sam nodded at Vision. “Were worried about Wanda crashing, got distracted, and crashed yourself trying to make sure she didn’t crash.”

“… yes,” Vision replied. His face shifted slightly. Ah ha. There it was. Admission. He found himself out.

“Good, glad that’s settled.”

“Nothing is settled,” Rhodey’s face scrunched.

“He gets it,” Sam polished off his water and rolled the empty bottle into the recycling.

“Yeah? Does he?” Rhodey looked at Vision. “Do you?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Viszh,” Sam puffed a laugh of amusement. ‘It’s complicated’ is how it all starts.”


	8. Pick a Card

“Here,” Wanda fanned out a deck of cards. “It’s a magic trick. Pick a card.”

“It is sleight of hand,” Vision corrected.

She leaned forward conspiratorially, “It’s witchcraft.” Amusement colored her tone.

Vision’s eyes traveled from the cards, to her, then back to the cards. Something visibly shifted on his face and he shared a soft smile.

Good, he caught the joke.

“Now,” she straightened up, donning an air of seriousness. She pressed the deck forward again. “Please pick a card.”

“You will not look,” he stated, not asked or accused.

Wanda had a wildly intrusive power, one that she managed carefully with the team. They trusted her to keep it in check, and she respected their wishes. Some, like Captain Rogers, had worked out signals when it was okay to connect with them. Others, like Sam, said emergencies only. Dr. Selvig was excited about studying the neural reactions, so every time they shared time in the lab they were both attached to monitoring equipment and he wanted her to read everything. Everything. It wasn't terrible, just disjointed at times. Vision had always said she was welcome any time. Even as such, she didn't invade his thoughts. She kept her reach to intuitive reads. It let her brush against surface thoughts and feelings while not literally plucking everything from their mind.

Vision's fingers hovered across the cards before gently drawing one from the deck. He held it in between them, still face down.

“I do not need to look to know,” Wanda tapped the card in his hand. “But you need to see it first.”

He tilted the card almost imperceptibly, his eyes flicked to hers, then back to the card.

“It’s the—”

“Don’t tell me!” she threw both hands into a stop motion. “It’s part of the magic.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay, now, place the card back in the deck, but do not let me see where,” she closed her eyes and held the deck out. There was a beat of silence before she felt pressure shift the cards down.

“The card is placed,” Vision confirmed.

Her eyes popped open and she quickly folded the deck back into a stack.

“There’s a few different ways I can do this,” she admitted as she started to shuffle.

“Ways to … ?”

“Identify the what you saw,” she clarified.

“I could just tell—”

“ Viszh,” she scolded.

“Apologies,” he looked contrite. “Please, continue.

“Okay,” she put the deck on the table, cut it in half and flipped up the top card.

“Is this what you saw?”

“It is not,” he seemed a little conflicted about his answer. “Are you sure this is —”

“Yes, this is how it goes,” she fixed him with a look and he clamped his mouth shut. She divided the deck again and fingered another card. “Is this?”

Vision frowned.

“No?” she eyed the deck for a moment, recollected it, and shuffled. She slipped a card out from the center and held it up in question.

Vision blinked.

“No?” Wanda twisted at the deck. “Okay, one last go?”

“It’s really not imperative—”

“Is that what you saw?” she nodded at the window.

“Sorry?”

“Is that what you saw?” she repeated and gestured for him to turn around.

He pivoted and looked to the glass panel. On the outside of the pane, a card was stuck into the metal rivet.

“That …” he paused, eyes focused on the card. “… is.”

She smiled broadly.

“How …?” he had traveled to the window to inspect the card.

“A good magician never tells their tricks,” she followed. “You were getting worried, weren’t you?”

“I must admit, it seemed the task was not working as intended,” his hand phased through the window and claimed the card. He pulled it back inside and held it out to Wanda.

She blinked at it for a moment, then let out a huff of air.

“I think my trick just got trumped,” she snagged the card from his hand.

“I am sorry.”

“No need, it’s all good,” she scrubbed his apology away with the wave of her hand.

“What you said before,” he had turned back to the window, watching some point far beyond the pane.

“Yes?”

“That you ‘do not need to look to know’,” he had grown still, but his eyes had found her reflection in the glass. “But you need me to see it first?”

“Correct.”

“Was that just for the magic trick?”

“It depends,” she smoothed her finger along the edge of the deck and met his gaze in the window. “Did you see?”

“I did. I do.” I mean … I … ” he turned around to face her, face what he was trying to articulate. “I see.”

She watched him carefully for a moment. “I know.”


	9. Dead Witch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be dead, stay alive.

Wanda tempered herself, tendrils of red drifting between her fingertips. If it is a battle he wants, if it is a fight to the death, why should she disappoint? 

She can hear a phantom of his thoughts: dripped with vitriol, as sharp and vicious as his leering smile. Wanda pulled her energies close and tried not to read further into her challenger’s mind. While she could clutch for fears to weave to her advantage, it made her keenly aware of everything else. She could not let herself find thoughts of family and love lurking below the fierce facade. It’s better in these times to not know these things. Wanda needed to situate in the “here and now” rather than the “there and then.” Especially when her adversary was set on her death. 

“Witch,” his voice gnashed.

“Sometimes,” she affirmed.

“Dead Witch,” he amended.

“Many times.”

If she had to fight, to kill, she needed the advantage of not knowing. Of not seeing too much. Of being truly as dead as she had just been accused. She could mourn the dead if she lived to be alive.

A savage realization flinched across her sight. They were both monsters.

The air burned.


	10. Short Circuits

“No,” his voice was sharp-edged.

“What?” her tone was balanced between quiet fury and disbelief.

Rhodey peered over his screen at Vision and Wanda. There was some sort of tension flowing between them. He frowned.

 _That was atypical._ _What circuit got shorted between those two?_

“I disagree,” Vision reiterated.

“What is it that you ‘disagree’ about?” her accent thicker than usual.

 _Ah, hell. Nope nope nope._ Rhodey snagged his beer, stuffed his tablet under his arm, and exited the room. He wasn’t going to be anywhere near Mr. Data and Ms. Witch if they were about to argue. It was downtime, dammit, and he was going to relax.

Usually, he would have caught up with Tony, but Pepper had claimed the day almost two months ago. With daily calendar alerts. 

For some reason, he was included on those. Well, actually, he knew the reason why. It wasn’t his fault Tony forgets his dates in favor of an impromptu boys night. Those alerts were Pepper’s way of keeping them both accountable for Tony’s behaviour. How did he end up being Tony’s keeper, anyway? That was one lady he didn’t want to be around when angered. She had a controlled poise and an equally as controlled ire. That's probably what was so eerily terrifying about it: Pepper could smile in peace with her surroundings, but inside she had all the fire of Extremis. He respected the hell outta her, just didn’t want to get her cross.

He swung down the corridor to his room and debated the merits of hunkering down versus finding another nice space to kick back. He paused at his door and frowned. Well, this was four walls of assured quiet (unless they were called in for an op), he might as well take what he could get.

\--

Vision had a certain harmony and respect for conflicting point-of-views. He was always interested in hearing the other side, learning the strengths and weaknesses of each argument, of finding a middle ground and offering a clear perspective. However, at this exact moment, perspective was offline.

Searching. Searching. Searching. Affirmative. Still offline.

In his peripheral, he heard Colonial Rhodes make haste and disappear from the room.

Honestly, upon seeing the red fused in Wanda’s eyes, he did not blame him.

“We have alarmed Colonial Rhodes,” he observed.

Wanda blinked at the doorway. She sighed and curled an errant hair behind her ear. Her gaze shifted from the door, to the floor, then to some far point beyond Vision’s shoulder.

Vision was in disorder with himself as he watched her. For all that he could see, for all that was within his mind’s eye, did he really understand so little? What was he missing?

“It’s not that,” Wanda shook her head.

He must have been thinking a touch too loud.

‘Sometimes,’ she pressed a response into his mind.

‘It would stand to reason that seeing my thoughts would help make them clear?’ he pressed back.

That seemed to further etch a line of stress into her features.

“Am I mistaken?” he asked aloud.

 “Maybe … maybe we talk later?” The embers in her eyes had stilled and she, herself, seemed to look extinguished from their discussions.

“Of course,” he didn’t like leaving things unresolved, but did not want to cause additional stress in an already tense day. There was something to this conversation Vision was missing, and if allowing Wanda a reprieve would help, he would bend the hands of time to give her what she needed. He intend to cause upset. He wanted to know what he didn’t understand, but didn’t know what he was supposed to understand.

“Thank you,” Wanda nodded minutely. She stole away.

\--

“Hey there, Wanda,” Rhodey leaned rounded the counter on the way to the fridge. “Is the fire out?”

Wanda eyed him for a moment and exhaled.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” he claimed a beer from the cooler. “You look like you could use a drink. IPA?” he offered.

“I am more accustomed to Vodka.”

“You’ll have to crash Natasha’s supply,” he considered. “If you can find it, and if you can live to tell about it.”

“Natasha doesn’t have a supply,” Wanda said distractedly. “She has been bending truths to make you think one exists.”

“The spy lied?” Rhodey mocked offense. “Not cool.”

Wanda’s face flickered with a smile, but here eyes were fixed on the floor.

Rhodey cleared his throat and tried to find a point of discussion. Did he even need to make small talk? He just wanted to refill his beer. Sam was the dude with the words of wisdom, how’d he get stuck talking to his brooding teammate?  

_Ah hell, here it goes._

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“It is okay, you do not have to,” she offered him an out.

_Right. Mind reader._

“Nah, lay it out for me,” he pushed forward all his confidence. “Sometimes it’s good just to throw it against a wall and see if it sticks.”

“That sounds like it could make a mess.”

“Well, don’t literally throw stuff at the wall,” Rhodey straightened up a touch. “Unless that would help? If so, I’d suggest starting with that God-awful lamp.” Some artist had made one of the Iron Legion's abandoned suit arms into a table lamp and sent to Tony. Tony gave it to Steve. Steve handed it off to the rec room and never looked back.

“I will keep that in mind,” she eyed the lighting fixture.

“Anyway,” Rhodey took a swig from his bottle. “Throw words first, then we can work on the furniture.”

\--

“No more surprises,” Rhodey dropped down on the sofa. “Give me a list so I'm not left guessing.”

“Guessing what, Colonial Rhodes?” Vision turned from the window and fixed Rhodey with his undivided attention.

“Rhodey,” he insisted. “Row-dee. Dude, if that isn’t the hundredth time … ”

“I believe it’s the twelfth time,” Vision volunteered.

“Twelve times, a hundred times. Either way, it’s one time too many.”

“Noted,” Vision paused. “What list are you inquiring after?”

“Your … um …” Rhodey couldn't quite articulate. “Look, you can do some weird shit. I just want a list so I don’t have to ‘WTF’ in the middle of stuff. It's a distraction. Distractions and guns don't mix.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Yeah.”

“May I ask what is on your list so I know what might be missing?”

“Well,” Rhodey searched the ceiling. “You can drift through walls like some weird red and green Christmas ghost.”

“Intangibility is the result of a decreased density and mass. This results in the ability to phase through solid objects.”

“Just solid objects, or people?”

“Yes, I can phase through organic matter.”

“Don’t do that,” Rhodey's skin crawled a little. He shook it off. "Especially not me."

“If it can be avoided, I will endeavour to keep that in mind.”

“Appreciated. Now, the shooting laser beam thing …” Rhodey tapped his forehead where the Mind Stone was woven into Vision’s structure. “ … phenomenal cosmic power, itty bitty living space?”

“The Mind Stone has the ability to channel an intense amount of energy,” Vision explained. “I am not sure how it finds a source. As far as I am aware, the power is internalized within the stone.”

“Not comforting, Viszh.”

“My apologies.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll consider you the safety lock,” Rhodey gave him a thumbsup. “Next: You can take a hit. Not just a hit, a smash.”

“Dr. Cho’s cradle created a hybrid construct of organic tissue bonded with Vibranium—”

“So, that's like Cap’s Shield it if it could get a papercut?”

“Not quite. I have not experienced such an injury,” Vision said thoughtfully. “And may not rule it out of the realm of possibility.”

“My advice? Avoid them. Avoid them all,” Rhodey rotated his shoulder unconsciously. The last time they were out he got tousled and it still felt funny.

“Thank you for the advisement.”

“Flying,” Rhodey ticked the point off a finger and waited for Vision to pick up the details.

“Levitation is also linked to density manipulation,” Vision offered. “I can minimize my density to its lowest point in order to hover and use force to move through the air.”

“Tony said you ‘grew’ your suit,” Rhodey continued. He eyed the gold fabric falling from Vision's shoulders. “And a cape.”

“Ah,” Vision fingered the material unconsciously for a moment. “The Mind Stone allows me to willfully generate synthetic material.”

“Just material?”

“What would you request?”

“Ferrari? Money? Hair?"

The corners of Vision’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t reply.

“Which reminds me: that generation of synthetic material stuff?” Rhodey huffed a laugh. “Tony has a lot of probing questions about that next time he gets you near an open bar.”

“That should be an interesting conversation.”

“You’ve been warned.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay,” Rhodey thought for a moment. “You can fuck with the internet.”

“Pardon?” if Vision brows raised.

“Hack programming,” Rhodey clarified. _Did a literal node kick in or something?_

“Yes,” Vision face shifted back to normal. “The extent of that venture can prove exhausting.”

“That’s what she said.”

Vision blinked blankly. “Who is ‘she’?”

“Nevermind,” Rhodey smothered his inner comic. He needed a better audience for that. “Just, if it’s down to the wire, we don’t have you fry the servers.”

“Hypothetically,” Vision frowned. “It would depend on the situation.”

“Anything I miss?”

“The density manipulation allows for a few additional adaptations,” Vision admitted. “The same molecular shifting that allows for minimized density can also be used to increase density.”

“Meaning?”

“I can hit hard, and take a hard hit in return.”

“See, I knew you could speak English.”

“I am fluent in 6,909 documented languages.”

“If I ever need a translator, I know where to go.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“That cover the main points?”

“I cannot think of anything for the moment,” Vision admitted. “If I discover something new, I will keep you advised.”

“Great, happy that’s settled,” Rhodey clapped his hands together in self-congratulations. “Now, go apologize to Wanda.”

Vision shifted his weight slightly and looked a little out of his element. “Sorry?”

“Not to me, to her,” Rhodey laughed. “And don’t phrase it like a question. She’ll know if you’re bullshitting. Man up. Take some fault. If you don’t say you’re sorry, you’re going to be sleeping on the sofa.”

“I was not incorrect—”

“Hey, you could be 500% right, it doesn’t matter,” Rhodey explained. “We’re talking about fault. Fault takes responsibility for the problem. It should be everybody’s fault all the time, then people would give a damn about fixing it instead of fighting over it.”

"This from the code name 'War Machine,'" Vision’s face was unreadable.

“I have my moments," Rhodey couldn't tell if Vision was amused or defensive. If he was presumptuous to talk on fault, he better walk the high line. "Time and place for everything, I suppose."

Vision was quiet.

“Well then,” Rhodey got the hint that this was the end of their conversation. He pulled himself off the sofa and headed out. "It's been real. Catch you on the other side."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
